An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

My facade:  someone who  has it all  together  keeps all  appointments  writes every day  edits, teaches  a good mum  in reality: someone who  cries in pain is awake at night tortured by doubt of doing a good job is barely  keeping things  together

A vessel  full of memories  as the seconds tick down  and the moments  become so fleeting  one side  of the hourglass  empties to fill  the other side when it runs out a cosmic hand reaches over to tip it so the flow begins anew  but nothing is lost  the balance is maintained  it's just the illusion  of time disappearing  into the ether.

A small river winds its way through in its banks carves a path started a long time ago thousands of years rock worn away gradually changing its course. it eventually  joins the bigger  tributaries flows past  shores that  never stay the same despite the illusion of complete stillness. Then branch out  into distant lands until it reaches  the vast ocean

Too much to do  too little time  so many  appointments  the calendar  on the wall  the clock  is ticking away  the seconds  and the minutes  of a life without pause  no time to breathe  or pause and reflect  just keep on going because the days pass by faster and faster the older you get.

Orange and purple yellow and red  duskglow the light fades as  the seconds and minutes pass  the fireflies  come out  to bid the day  farewell and  the nightingale  sings a dirge  to the setting sun.

Be grateful  for what you have Count your blessings The sun's light in the sky the wind in your hair the food on your plate from the choicest steaks to the blandest porridge And the air that you breathe but just possessing the basics  doesn't mean  that you have  to settle  for a substandard  existence  and don't let  anyone convince  you otherwise.